Midnight Catch
by cwtch
Summary: William was in trouble and scared stupid. He didn't know what to do or who to turn to. When he learns of a certain gifted student's abilities, he hauls ass across his college campus in the dead of night in hopes that this strange man would be the solution to his problems. What happens when a late-night call leads the gifted Jonathan Wyatt to a young man with a depressed fish?


It was nearly midnight and I knew he was most likely asleep, but this was an emergency. I didn't know what to do, who to turn to. Only ten minutes before then had I learned of this guy's peculiar skill set I was so desperate for. Yet, despite the rush of adrenaline from sprinting across campus to find him, I stood stock still outside his off-white dorm door. My left hand, balled into a tight fist, was poised ready to knock-and yet. Thoughts of her momentarily blinded me, reminding me of the reason I was there. If I didn't do this, I'd never see her beautiful, tail-like red hair flowing in the water. I gathered myself and knocked.

I knocked, and then waited. Knocked again and once more found myself met with nothing but silence. I had stood there a good five minutes until I realised he wasn't going to answer and all at once my hope drained out of me. I slumped against the door; it had been too late at night. I'd have to try again the next morning, but I feared by then it would be too late. I had to save her. I slammed my fists against the door until I heard the telltale signs of wakefulness. Light flooded from beneath the entry and I heard the clicking of a lock from the inside and the door swung open.

"Yes?" he asked through a barely covered yawn.

"Oh thank god," I said. I righted myself when he turned a pointed look at my slumped figure. "I know it's late but I need your help. Immediately."

I suppose I sounded graver than entirely necessary, but it worked. He closed the door-which startled me-but within a few minutes, he was back and wearing running shoes and pulling on a school sweatshirt, following me out and over to the elevator. We stood apart each other the entire ride. He stared at me imploringly while I remained mesmerised by his blue eyes. It was like the entirety of the sky on a sunny afternoon was trapped within his irises. His face was all angles, too. High cheekbones, strong jaw covered in days old scruff. He looked your average sleep-deprived college kid, complete with mussed light brown hair and dark eye bags.

"Well?" he asked not unkindly, slanting his eyebrows upward. "Are you going to tell me what the emergency is?"

"You're beautiful." The words escaped my mouth with a puff before I could comprehend them myself, and when I did I flushed. "No, sorry. That's not the emergency-not an immediate one anyway."

He eased out a breathy laugh I mistook as uncomfortable and ducked my head.

"Hey, don't do that. I'm flattered." I met his gaze and inhaled sharply. He licked his lips and trapped the lower one under his pearl white teeth. In attempts to salvage the situation so as not to embarrass myself further, I thought up a witty remark.

"Alright, Sebastian Stan, you can turn down the sexy," I quipped with a tentative smile. "It's too much for my little gay heart."

He laughed and my left knee went wobbly. How can someone I hardly know have this effect on me? Granted, I had overextended that very knee the day before in a rough game of soccer and brushed off the trainer's warning to keep weight off it. Good, because no one on earth could possibly be so bewitching.

"What is your name?" he inquired.

"William Blair," I responded with a smile. "And you?"

"Jonathan-Wyatt Mitchell."

A moment of silence passed between us, the lack of our voices filled with the slow swing of a saxaphone pouring out of the elevator speakers. I suppose we were studying each other in this time. I was certainly admiring the view.

Beyond noting his facial appearance, I set his height at a solid five feet and eight inches, nine being generous. About two inches shorter than I was. I found this incredibly cute. His sweatshirt was far too big, the sleeves pushed up his forearm and pooling in a puff at his elbows. He still wore his pyjama pants, long flannel pants with the word 'badwolf' embellishing them as well as roses. Just as I opened my mouth to ask about them, the elevator slowed to a stop and the doors slid open smoothly. We exited them and the building's entrance quickly. The cold of the night startled me and I shivered, sorely aware of my lack of a jacket. I kept it to myself as we continued our newly slowed journey to my dorm across campus and silently hoped he hadn't noticed my slight limp as we crossed a patch of grass. I decided that in case he did, I'd strike up a conversation to divert his attention.

"What does Badwolf mean?" I asked. I seemed to have caught him by surprise because he requested I repeat my question. "I asked what Badwolf means?"

"Oh, yeah," Jonathan said, looking down at his pants and fingering the material. "It's from a TV show?"

"Which one?"

"'Doctor Who'?" he offered, a unexpectant half smile on his face. Looks like not many people he met had shown any interest in the show. "It's kind of an old show."

"No, I know of it. I haven't gotten into it myself, but my sister absolutely loves it. Do you prefer the classic who over the revamped who?"

I could tell I had struck gold because his face lit up. "Oh, that's great! I don't have a preference, but I'd have to say the fourth doctor is my favorite."

I nodded my head and we fell into another silence. I listened to the crisp quiet of the night, feeling the pull of the wind in my hair and thin t-shirt. Goosebumps rose on my arms and I felt the prick of the hairs on my neck as they stood on end. It was always uncomfortable for me when I started shivering, so I discreetly rubbed my arms to gather warmth. He noticed.

"Cold?" Jonathan asked. Before I could respond he was pulling off his sweatshirt and offering it to me.

"Oh, thanks." I accepted it albeit a little awkwardly and slipped it on. It fit me remarkably better than it did him. It smelt like the most cliched cologne ever, but I enjoyed every whiff of the sandalwood and peppermint. "Oh god, you even smell beautiful."

We laughed in sync. I hoped my flirting wasn't too much, especially since we'd just met, but he seemed to respond well to it. What the hell, I thought. Life is short. Go for it. I inched closer to him as we walked, and soon as we reached the dorm building, he opened the door for me. The elevator ride this time around found us side by side against the wall opposite the doors, him leaning a bit against me. It was a welcomed weight, especially since I discovered that if I poked his cheek just lightly enough, he'd grin and reveal the most adorable dimples.

The elevators in my building had a preset alert that went off whenever the designated floors were reached. When it went off, we both jumped and pulled away from our slump against each other, not any less drowsy than before. Our walk was short since I was set just to the left and down three rooms from the lift. I scrambled outside my door for a bit in search of my key while Jonathan propped himself against the wall next to me and watched. I felt a nervous tick at my shoulder. I was mentally running through my dorm, trying desperately to remember if my roommate had cleaned up like I'd asked him to or if we were about to walk into the same disaster I woke to this morning. I swung the door open and pushed my way in first, flipping on the light switch and surveying the area. It wasn't as messy, but there was a half full pizza box on the coffee table and the dishes in the kitchenette had yet to be washed and put away.

"Sorry for the mess," I began, but with a look behind me, I saw he was waving it off.

"Not to worry. My room is usually messier. I've maintained it for now since my roommate is out of state for a wedding or something." He walked around a bit in the entrance, shifting from foot to foot until halting and looking at me. "So, the emergency?"

"Ah," I said. I motioned with a wave for him to follow me to my room, which I knew for a fact was in pristine shape. Well, aside from the pile of crumpled papers pouring out of my trash in the corner. I had been assigned a handwritten short story due the following fortnight and it was hellish. I was so used to the ease of computer keyboards, I'd all but forgotten how damned writing by hand could be.

Once we both situated ourselves in my room-he plopped down on my bed- I pulled a tank down from my dresser and placed it carefully on my bedside table. He inched closer to it and smiled.

"A fish!" He seemed extremely pleased. As I sat on my swivel desk chair, he struck up a conversation with her. "Esmeralda? That's a pretty name. My name is Jonathan-Wyatt."

I busied myself by looking in a mirror on my desk. I checked my hair, making sure the curls weren't too unruly, peeked at my teeth to see if there was any food in them, and then did a once over of my face. I looked okay; there wasn't anything extraordinary about me. I had average cheekbones, I supposed my jaw was pretty angular, and my eyes were brown. My mother called them cognac because of the mix of honey and chocolate brown, but I didn't really see anything special in them. I pushed away from the mirror with a puff, gladdened by the lack of problems with my appearance-however vain that may seem-but I did pop a mint into my mouth as a refresher.

After a few minutes of their light chatter-all I got was his side of it, the rest just bubbles forming on the top of the tank-he looked over at me a little tentatively. I offered him a mint and he took one, nodding thanks. "You're taking this well."

"I heard you could talk to her and I all but sprinted to find you. I don't really care about the why or the how so much as I care if you can tell me whether or not she's sad." I lifted myself from the chair and plopped down right next to him. "She hasn't been eating lately and she just swims at the bottom of the tank. I think she's depressed."

He nodded and went back to talking to her. I waited as patiently as I could beside Jonathan until he once again turned to me. "She's not depressed. She's just lonely."

I breathed a bit easier, the tension knotted up in my chest unravelling. "Lonely?"

He nodded again. "She said you two used to talk almost every day last year, but ever since your new term you've grown distant. She doesn't hear much from you."

I shook my head a little disbelievingly but remembered the times I'd come to the dorm after a class and talked to her about it. I'd gush about my chemistry course and the history class teacher to her all the time, but this year was a little less exciting. More tests, more homework, less time to sleep, less interest in the classes. My college life and the pizzazz it held freshman year drained from me through this year. I deflated next to him. He rested a hand on my back and I voiced my thoughts to him. He had an arm wrapped around my waist by the time I was apologising to Esmeralda.

"I'm really sorry, Esme." I ducked my head sheepishly and reached out a finger to press softly against the glass. She swam towards it and bumped against it. I smiled feeling a little better.

"She forgives you," Jonathan said, rubbing my back encouragingly. "Just make sure to keep her in the loop. No more ignoring her because you're stressed. She even thinks that talking to her could help relax you."

I laughed happily and nodded my head. "Of course. Starting tomorrow, you're officially in the loop. Love ya' Esme."

"She says, and I quote," he motioned quotations in the air as he spoke. "'You're tolerable'."

I smiled. She had always been a sassy little thing, the red of her tail adding to it. It's what originally drew me to her, the flash of red as she swam around the small cup in the pet store. My mom had told me to get a pet to keep me company, and since I couldn't afford a dog or cat-and also because those types of pets were banned in dorms- I settled on a low maintenance crowntail betta fish.

"I'm glad you're both feeling better," Jonathan spoke. I nodded and rested my head on his shoulder.

"Thanks for helping us out. You're a real catch, Jon-Wyatt." I adjusted myself so I was angled more towards him and enveloped him in a hug, my face cradled by his shoulder. This time, my nose was angled towards his neck, so I breathed deeply and rubbed my nose against him. I felt him jump and the goosebumps travelling up his neck. "I'm going to say something, and when I do don't freak out."

He laughed a little nervously but tried at humor. "What? You're not an axe-murderer just escaped from prison, are you?"

I grinned and kissed him at the base of his neck. "No. But I am ridiculously attracted to you, Jonathan-Wyatt Mitchell, and your ridiculously long name."

I felt his deep exhale brush through my short hair and soon he was running his hand through it. "Oh, thank god. I thought this was one sided and after tonight, I'd never see you again."

I pulled myself up and looked at him carefully. As I spoke, I inched closer to him, slowly so as not to startle him. "I don't care that you're a mermaid-merman? I just like you, and I really want to kiss you. Immediately."

Instead of answering, he pulled me in for a kiss. Our lips moulded together roughly and I tangled my hand in his brown hair, twirling strands around my fingers and tugging lightly. In return, he cradled the side of my face in his hand and the other he had draped over my shoulder, pulling me closer to him. My lungs ached for air, but I was too busy drinking him in. I could smell his cologne all over him and the warmth of his body enveloped me. I felt a mix of excited emotions inside, speeding my heart which pounded against my ribs.

He was pulling me against him, his hand now gripping my thigh and hoisting it onto his lap and from there he moved it to my waist. With one hand in his hair, I explored his arm with the other, clenching the muscle and pushing up under the sleeve. When we broke apart, I was left gasping and sitting ontop of him. He rested his forehead against mine but I didn't open my eyes until he spoke.

"Your fish said that if we are going to have sex, do so in a different room."

"Oh my god!" I pulled away and hid my head in the crook of his neck, but quickly pulled back again to glare at her. "Esmeralda! I'm not going to have sex with him!"

He was laughing against my shoulder, rubbing soothing circles on my back in attempts to calm me down. "Not now anyway."

I whacked his shoulder but I was laughing with him. We rolled over onto the bed, laying on our backs and wheezing with laughter. When we both finally calmed down enough, we glanced at each other but that did no good. We dissolved into another fit of giggles until my roommate pounded on the wall behind us. Jonathan quieted down after that, but I was still giggling softly. He opened his arms a little and I rolled over onto his side where he wrapped me in a hug.

"I'm glad your fish got sad, because if she had been kept in the loop of your life, I'd never have become a part of it." His voice was soft, on the verge of sleep behind me.

I shifted around until I was facing him and then I kissed him again. "I'm glad too. You're a cute merman."

He smiled sleepily, eyes drooping closed as he drifted. "D'you mind if I crash here tonight? I'm a little tired."

I didn't reply for a while. I just watched him as he fell asleep, and when he did, I wriggled around carefully as I could until I felt my blanket and pulled it over us. Once I was settled back against his chest, I replied. "Crash here as often as you want."

I fell asleep in his arms that night. Less romantically, I woke up to find him clasping me to him with a bruising grip. He's a very big koala and a big cuddler. I suppose it was worth it, though. After all, he's a catch.


End file.
